fashion spits on style,
which amuses the French
and Siberian women
understand nothing
yet are the loveliest by dint
of skin and leg and golden glint.
My screen fried
today; it simply colourized
and died, and I recalled
the sparkling toddler shoe
left on display four doors
down I yearned
to scoop it up, claim its milky occupant
but
one must not take what one
does not own,
and my camera said, "no, widowed woman, kindly let
it go."
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